


'tis the damn season

by softeninglooks



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:34:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29080953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softeninglooks/pseuds/softeninglooks
Summary: Where Steve always comes back to New York for the winter holidays because it makes him feel like home; incidentally, home is also where Tony is.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Stony, stevetony - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	'tis the damn season

**Author's Note:**

> _"We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend, ‘tis the damn season, write this down.”_  
>  — Taylor Swift, ‘tis the damn season

Breathing in a lungful of fresh air, Steve’s heart is coated with an unparalleled sense of warm nostalgia, belonging — _longing_ — and appeasement at once. In his hand, a paper bag from his favourite bakery, where he always goes to as soon as he’s alone in New York and needs something to remind him of home; it hasn’t changed much since his childhood years in Brooklyn, though the people working there have. Regardless, it still instills in him a feeling of festivity and joy, reminding him of how he used to celebrate Christmas and New Year’s Eve with Sarah and Bucky. He’s been alone for so long, he got used to having no one to visit to for the holidays now. Only, there is a second pie in the paper bag. And an irrepressible flicker of hope makes him think that, with a bit of luck, he won’t remain completely alone. 

It hasn’t stopped snowing for the past couple of hours, snowflakes tangling in Steve’s hair and landing upon his coat, and the city is buzzing with merriment, decorated shopfronts and illuminated building-façades reminding any passer-by that festivities won’t be long to come. The Captain remembers that it used to be less grand, what with the advancements of the modern world, so he always finds it breathtaking, marvelling at all the new set-ups that have been put up for the holiday season. Plunged in the seasonal wonders of New York City among the rest of the bustling crowd and wearing his civilian clothes, Steve feels anonymous — it’s the only break he can get from missions, so he takes his time. For a few days, he simply gets to be Steve Rogers; something of the punny kid he used to be lives in him. 

However, it doesn’t take long for the man’s phone to chime, making his chest jolt uncontrollably as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, checking the screen in the hope of finding there what he’s been waiting for. He picks up the call, breathing out a puff of white air. 

_“Hello?”_

_“Hey, Cap.”_ Tony’s voice answers at the other end of the line. _“Merry Christmas.”_

 _“Merry Christmas, Tony.”_ Steve waits, more hopeful than he should be.

_“Are you in New York for the holidays?”_

_“Yes, I am. How about you?”_ He’s almost scared to ask at the thought of being disappointed. 

_“Yeah, and I just got out of that interminable gala. Do you want to, uh, see each other? Catch up?”_ This time, it’s almost Tony who sounds hesitant, although his tone barely alters. _“It’s been a while.”_ He adds, quieter. 

_“Sure.”_ A weight lifts off Steve’s shoulders — he already feels more joyful, less lonely. He gives Tony the address, saying that he’ll keep walking down the street until the brunet picks him up.

Indeed, less than ten minutes later, a car pulls to a halt beside the Captain, the window of the vehicle rolling down to reveal Tony in the driver’s seat. 

“You’re late,” Steve teases him, though the Captain’s fond smile betrays his true gladness as Tony rolls his eyes, his own face not devoid of a smile.

Steve gets inside, engulfed by the warmth of Tony’s car, and buckles up his seat-belt. Of course Tony Stark would also have a house in New York, so that’s where they’re headed, he knows it without further inquiring. They always did that.

“How was the gala?” Steve asks, trying to remember the last time he saw Iron Man — it’s been months, since Tony runs a company whose headquarters are in Los Angeles and the Captain works for Nick Fury in Washington DC. 

“The praise is always nice, but it gets boring after a while,” Tony jokes, glancing at the man next to him. “How about you, Cap? Villains giving you much trouble?”

“Not enough to knock me off my feet yet. It feels good to get a break though,” Steve admits, gazing at the beautifully-decorated streets through the window. Then he looks at Tony, a small moved smile passing by the Captain’s lips. 

The conversation keeps going, the two men telling each other news that they’ve missed out on since their last meeting, and the same complicity as ever envelops them, as if being so far away from each other was just a parenthesis that they are both eager to close. On those winter days with Tony, Steve feels so far away from everything — he isn’t caught up in fights, if only cordial playfulness, and he doesn’t need to worry about anything else but the fact that Tony will end up leaving. But for now, he does what he always does: he conceals the thought of the other man returning to L.A. in a distant corner of his mind, only focusing on the well-known figure by his side.

Half an hour later, the doors of the car unlock and the two men stand out into the snow-white driveway of Tony’s house, which Iron Man uses whenever he is needed in New York and wants to take some time for himself. Incidentally, it’s the place he always takes Steve when they see each other during the holiday season, and coming there without the Captain only reminds Tony of the other man’s comforting presence, of how far away from his so-called friends and the business of the rest of his life he is there. 

Although the house is barely used the rest of the year, Tony has taken care of making it cosy for his stay, blankets having been left upon the sofa and wood softly crackling in the fireplace as the pair comes in, looking as if it’s inhabited a lot more than just for a few days in December. Steve remembers it well from last year, when they celebrated Christmas together and Tony ended up spilling champagne all over the wooden table; maybe the stain is still there, the Captain thinks, glancing at the piece of furniture.

“I got pie, by the way,” Steve says, taking his coat and shoes off, then follows Tony into the wide living room, the brunet man turning the lights on. He puts the paper bag he’s carrying upon the table. The stain is still there, though faded. 

“Thanks. Cap, it pains me to say it, but I admit that your pies from that 40′s bakery are still the best ones I’ve ever had,” Tony gives him a sly smile, sighing at the concession, to which Steve responds by shaking his head amusedly. 

“The holidays wouldn’t be the same without them.” Nor without Tony.

“You know how much I love those meaningless celebrations,” The brunet man comments ironically, but the softness that Steve catches a glimpse of in his eyes expresses just how much the brunet actually loves this tradition of theirs, no matter how little the rest of the holidays mean to him. “I’ll get us a drink.”

“Be careful,” Steve warns him light-heartedly. “That table’s suffered enough.” 

Outside the window, thousands of snowflakes spiral in the cold air, covering the neighbourhood in a beautiful sheet of snow which must heighten the festive mood of its habitants. Here, Steve doesn’t need to dream of a white Christmas. 

He joins Tony, helping him by taking care of the pies, and Iron Man then hands him a glass of mulled wine, whose appetising waft he cannot dissociate from the time spent there with Tony. Even though he only comes once a year, the Captain feels more comfortable here than in any other place, reliving it all over again each time he comes: his skin is slightly prickling from the cold that he hasn’t shaken off yet, but he knows that this feeling will be gone in less than ten minutes; he also knows how it will all end.

They return to the living room, enjoying the warmth of the beverage as they take a seat on the sofa, Tony pushing the coffee table toward them so they could let their glasses rest upon it.

“I’m glad to see that you’re alright,” Tony is the first one to break the quietness between them, giving Steve one of those looks that make the Captain’s stomach shiver with feelings that he wishes he didn’t have to swallow this often. Then the man’s hand brushes his, so he takes it without second-thought, knowing that they have to make most of the little time they are given. 

“I’m not getting rusty yet,” he smiles, taking a sip of mulled wine. Their evening has just started, but he already wishes that it would never come to an end.

“I don’t know, maybe you need to retire soon,” Tony says tentatively, shrugging, though regrets it immediately as soon as he notices the sorrowful twinkle that his remark sparked in Steve’s dark blue eyes. He knows all too well that Captain America cannot stop doing what he does, so they better not talk about this, no matter how much they’ve both thought it through over and over again. “Sorry. Let me try again.” 

This time, Tony leans in, leaving a kiss upon Steve’s lips, and Steve kisses him back, careful not to spill the mulled wine just as his heart warms up. He better not think about the rest. 

“Now, it truly feels like Christmas,” Tony smiles, taking a sip from his glass. “I can see you really aren’t rusty, Rogers.” 

“Good to hear,” Steve laughs, Tony’s hand still in his, and this time it’s he who kisses the brunet man, the pit of his stomach burning from the desire that such a contact ignites in him. No matter how long they were apart, this always felt right. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmurs against Tony’s lips, blindly setting his beverage aside; so does Tony, he understands by the sound of glass clinking against the surface of the coffee table.

Next thing Steve knows, Tony’s is pulling him closer, the palm of his hand firmly pressed against his taught stomach, while the Captain caresses the other man’s back, retracing familiar paths on the skin under his shirt. In the palm of Tony’s hand, he feels safe and loved, he feels cared for — all he wants is to remain like this, his fingers tangled up in Tony’s hair and the brunet man’s lips on his, then descending upon his neck, down his torso. Every part of his body longs to be touched by Tony, every word he speaks longs to be heard by Tony. Here, Steve has everything that he can’t have. 

“I’ve missed you, baby,” Steve gives Tony one of his touched smiles, the kind that make the man’s heart pound so loudly he fears the Captain might hear it. Does he want for him to hear? 

They’re dressed again now, facing each other, their fingers intertwined and their conversation intimate. The quiet murmur of the fireplace hasn’t ceased, heat spreading throughout the house and filling the otherwise chilly air with warmth, contrasting with the coldness of the outside weather and its fluffy, chiselled snowflakes scattering upon the road. 

“I like it when you call me that,” Tony kisses the back of Steve’s hand, their eyes locked together. “I’ve missed you too.“

“Now winter’s my favourite season,” Steve confesses, shaking his head as a smile brightens his features.

“You have a favourite season.” Tony laughs fondly, shaking his head. “It actually doesn’t surprise me.” Of course Steve Rogers, Captain America, would have a favourite season and call him ‘baby’ as if there was no one else in the world but him.

“If anything, that’s your fault, Stark,” Steve shoots back with a lopsided grin, both playful and loving as ever.

The Captain’s happiness is so vibrant, Tony feels it radiating off him, piercing through each one of his looks at him and humorous remarks. The brunet squeezes his hand, faking an exasperated look although the affection he feels for the other man couldn’t have been stronger. 

Steve chuckles, stroking the back of Tony’s hand with his thumb. His throat is brimming with so many feelings, he might make the mistake of saying something that will shatter this moment into pieces. But he can’t help it.

“Tony…” His chest falls from the first rise of laughter, his tone softer and more serious at the same time, which alarms Tony. “Why do we keep going like this?” _No, don’t say anything, please_ , the brunet implores, almost pleads out loud. “I only feel this way when I’m with you, Tony. What if I stopped being yours just for the weekend?”

“We both know why, Steve,” Tony breathes out, breaking eye contact, but he doesn’t pull his hand away from Steve’s. That, he can’t do.

“But we could come up with another solution… We could…” The Captain has always been too hopeful, for better or for worse, but in this case, Tony knows it won’t lead them anywhere but to their ruin.

“We know how this would go.” Tony says quietly, sentences torn away from him one by one. “I run a world-leading company and partly help you save the world, while you do the latter all the time. I love what we have, Steve. But what happens when one day one of us doesn’t turn up in New York in December? When we learn that there’s someone else. Someone who doesn’t have a job like that and who you can easily be with.” Tony exhales painfully.

“Tony…” Steve’s grip tightens on his hand, his greyish blue eyes desperately attempting to meet his, to make him understand that besides his daily duty, all he lives for is him. “Please…” _Stay._

Tony cuts him off before Steve can finish.

“Don’t say it, Steve.”

“Tony, I…” _Love you._

“No, Steve. Please…” Tony’s voice trails off, the brunet man softly wiping a tear off Steve’s cheek instead while struggling to fight his own emotion back at the sight of Steve’s overwhelming sadness. Tony loves him too, but he can’t say it. This is all they can get. Taking a shaky breath in, Steve nods, letting his head rest in the palm of Tony’s hand as the wet web of his eyelashes falls shut upon his eyes. 

“When is your flight back?” Steve manages to ask in a raspy voice when he can talk again without fearing of breaking down into a sob, his humid blue gaze meeting Tony’s. 

“Tomorrow,” Tony spares the Captain by answering right away, but he wishes he would’ve never had to. However, everything he told Steve is still true, no matter how much they wanted things to be different. 

Steve takes a deep breath in, nodding again, then rubs the tip of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger. Clearing his throat, he tries to give Tony a wavering smile, deep down knowing that the other man is right; but how he wishes they could walk upon the road less taken instead. 

“Then let’s make most of the time we have,” Steve finally breaks the silence, leaving on Tony’s lips a kiss charged with all the words he cannot allow to spill out again. Getting a hold of himself, he fights off the unbearable sadness of imagining Tony leaving by forcing himself into the moment, trying to focus on Tony only, on their getaway house and on the cosy atmosphere they are lucky to delight in. 

“Are you sure?” Tony whispers, already picturing Steve getting up and heading for the door, unable to take this this any longer. 

“Yes,” Steve reassures with gentleness, retrieving his glass of mulled wine and taking a sip. He’s back to his usual self now, only his slightly puffy eyes reminding Tony that he’s been crying a few minutes ago. Steve, as always, stands back up. “At least I get to be yours now,” he says, giving Tony another smile, though it isn’t devoid of a remnant hint of sadness. “It’s alright. As long as I can call you babe for the weekend.”

“Yes, you can.” Moved, Tony kisses Steve again while the blond man’s hands are slipping under his sweater, wrapping around his ribs and making his body quiver under his touch. 

“This is my favourite season too, by the way,” An affectionate smile makes its way upon Tony’s features, the man joking although he has long dropped his sarcastic façade. Steve is the person who knows him better than anyone else, so he isn’t scared of being himself around him, even if it’s for just a couple of days. Although they rarely see each other, the bond that ties them together makes Steve the one who can tell which smiles of Tony’s are real and which words of his are heartfelt. He’s what comes closer to what home feels like.

Steve chuckles, recognising one of Tony’s most characteristic habits — although it isn’t the first time, he could never get used to Iron Man’s unexpected confessions. 

“Well, ‘tis the season, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Tony lets himself rest against Steve, sighing softly as he closes his eyes, thinking about nothing but this moment, which he wishes could last a lifetime. “’Tis the damn season.”


End file.
